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She leaned closer, her breath warm against Everett's cheek. "I used to pull people back from the very edge of the dark. And if you're willing to fight your way through the fog they've pumped into your veins, I'll pull you back too." / Chapter 2 / 10

Chapter 2 - The Scent of BetrayalThe brass doorknob turned with a sharp click.

Willa reacted with the split-second survival instinct of a cornered animal. Using her free hand, she forced Everett’s fingers open, sliding her palm away just as the door swung wide open.

Mr. Crowley, the estate manager, stood in the doorway. His pale eyes scanned the room, lingering suspiciously on Willa, who was standing a little too close to the bed, her breathing slightly elevated.

"Is there a problem, Mrs. Kane?" Crowley asked, his voice dripping with icy artificial politeness.

"None," Willa replied, forcing her voice to remain completely steady. She reached down to adjust the blanket over Everett's chest, her fingers brushing his arm. "Mr. Kane had a muscle spasm. His arm moved."

Crowley stepped into the room, his polished oxfords clicking against the hardwood floor. He walked over to the bedside monitor, his gaze flicking across the green lines of the heart rate graph. A slight spike was visible, but nothing that triggered an alarm.

"Mr. Kane's body experiences random involuntary reflexes," Crowley said dismissively, glancing down at Everett’s motionless face. "Dr. Whitfield has explained this thoroughly. You would do well not to panic over phantom movements, Mrs. Kane. It disturbs the household."

"I wasn't panicking," Willa said, meeting the manager’s cold stare head-on. "Just checking on my husband. Or is caring for him also against the rules?"

Crowley’s lips tightened into a thin, bloodless line. "Your job is to stay out of the way. Sterling Kane is arriving for dinner tonight. He wishes to see how the 'happy couple' is settling in. Wear the emerald dress hanging in your wardrobe."

Without waiting for a reply, Crowley turned and walked out, pulling the heavy door shut behind him.

Willa exhaled a shaky breath. She turned back to the bed. Everett’s eyes were still closed, his breathing even. But as she leaned in close, she noticed a microscopic shift in the corner of his left eyelid.

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The heavy silver fork slipped from my fingers, clattering sharply against the gold-rimmed porcelain of my dinner plate.

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The heavy mahogany door of the Fairmont Copley suite clicked shut with a muffled, expensive thud.

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A single tear tracked down his temple, sinking silently into the white pillowcase.

He's trapped inside his own skull, Willa realized with a jolt of pure horror. And they are slowly, systematically murdering him right under my nose.

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